The Final Battle
by VixenMage
Summary: The last battle of the Kyprish Isles Trickster's Queen, as told by a grandfather who was there, to his grandson who was not. Rated K for mild violence. ..Oneshot..


"Grandfather! Grandfather!" The small boy raced through the field, an empty sack hanging loosely over one shoulder. His trousers were rolled up to the tops of his shins, and his bare feet accentuated the fact that he wasn't wearing a shirt. His curly black hair hung across his broad forehead, dampened by the sweat on his brow. The light brown skin on his shoulders was starting to turn red, reflecting the fiery sunset in the sky above.

The old man sat reclining in the back of the house, whittling a small whistle with a knife. Hearing the shout, he smiled and looked up at the boy. "Have you finished your work, Mocci?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "I planted twenty-four furrows with that sack, Grandfather!" Encouraged by his grandfather's approval, Mocci added hopefully, "Do you think you have time for a story before supper?"

The older man looked at him, eyes twinkling. "Well, I don't know, Mocci. Don't you think it would be more productive if you worked on your lessons? That arithmetic isn't going to learn itself, you know."

Mocci groaned good-naturedly. "Aww, Grandfather…" The man laughed.

"I suppose I have time for a short tale, before your mother calls us in for supper. Now what would you like to hear, Mocci?" He smiled, clapping his hands together in preparation.

"How about the battle? The final battle, where we beat the Luarin nobles out of the castle, and took it back for Kyprioth?" He briefly bowed his head in respect upon uttering his god's name.

_High above, resting in his home, a dark-skinned, man with salt and pepper coloring sprinkled in his thick black hair smiled down upon his nation. He decided he would like to hear about the final battle, too. Taking on the shape of a crow, he alighted on a nearby branch, starting a miniature kudarung. Recognizing the god, the tiny mare settled back down, and the two sat down to listen to the tale together._

"Well, what you have to understand, Mocci, is that that particular battle wasn't the only one that happened. There were several small skirmishes, long before, but I wasn't involved, so I couldn't tell you the details of them. There was also a huge conspiracy, long before many of us even knew anything was happening." He winked, accentuating a point. "Of course, since I worked for the Balitangs back then, I did have a little to do with it. But anyway, on with the story. 

Those were exciting times. The week before, there had been trouble, plenty of trouble. The former king – a luarin, to be sure – had been murdered." A dark look crossed his face. "Poor boy."

"But, Grandfather, wasn't that a good thing? He was a luarin king, and we wanted a raka ruler," Mocci broke in.

"No, Mocci. For one thing, the king was only a small child, no older than little Kito," he said, naming Mocci's eight-year old brother. "It wasn't ours that killed 'im, mind. Her Highness would never stoop so low – not to mention, her little brother was killed along with the king. 'Twas the regents, to be sure. But, there now," he smiled, seeing his grandson's mood start to diminish, "You're getting me off track o' the battle, Mocci.

Not a full week after the regents had little Dunevon killed, the royal spymaster – o' course, she wasn't the royal spymaster then, just a big leader in the raka conspiracy – decided it was time to act. She sabotaged the luarin troops, an' made our victory near certain. Wasn't long 'til the regents were near ready to destroy all the raka in the Kyprish Isles!" He grinned widely.

"But we beat 'em to it, didn't we, Grandfather!"

"Ai! Do you want to hear the story or tell it, Mocci? Let me speak once in a while, you might learn something, lad!" The older man looked indignantly down at his grandson.

"I'm sorry, Grandfather. Will you finish the story? I'll stop interrupting you, I promise." He looked contrite enough, so his grandfather continued.

"That's right. Respect for your elders is an important lesson, Mocci." Was it his imagination, or did the caw out of that tree sound approving? There was no telling, these days, what with the crows having battled the Stormwings, and so on. The local gossips even said that some girl was marrying one! Ah, well, no accounting for the grapevine.

He proceeded with the story, smiling down at his legacy, the young boy at his feet, before doing so. "Well, Queen Dovasary, back then known as Dove, was going through the street, and several assassins attacked her. They say there was a huge riot before that, but I wasn't there to see it, so I can't tell you too much about that. There was a lot of confusion; that lasted from the riot, into the battle. It got hard to distinguish between the fighters and the onlookers. Now, the next part, I'll never forget." He puffed his chest out importantly before continuing.

"There was a cry for alarm, and we all came running. We'd been prepped a few days afore, mind, by Ulasim." He smiled, remembering. "What a man. The bravest captain a soldier could hope for. Aye, you'll not see the like of him, again, Mocci. He was a rare one, was Ulasim. Wasn't 'til after he went down in battle that we all realized how important he'd been. Took down the prince – a regent, and a cruel, cruel man – with him, as well as plenty 'a luarin guards.

We battled on for a long time. I remember, this once…" He trailed off. "There are plenty o' things that happened there, that I don' want you knowing, and I don't think your Momma would approve, neither." Mocci opened his mouth to object, but stopped himself before saying anything. "Good boy. Now I fended off my share of attacks, that's for sure. One man attacked me, though, a real big fellow, with a big axe. He woulda put a big crack right down the middle o' me!" He paused here, for dramatic effect, but apparently paused for too long.

"What did you do?" Mocci exclaimed, looking excited. Not everyone's grandfather was a war hero, and he loved hearing stories from his. He looked up at him, his entire face a question mark.

"Well, I didn't do nothing. That blade woulda split my pole like kindling!" He held his hands out to about ½ feet to show the size of the axe blade. "Then, all of the sudden, his hands started to fall. I thought for sure I was gone, seein' as I wouldn't had time to get out of the way afore my brains spilled all over the street. But his hands slowed down, an' the axe fell right out of 'em!" At this, Mocci went wide-eyed, holding his breath in anticipation.

"He fell over, and I barely managed to shove 'is body off of me. There was Veron, right behind him. He was a luarin, sure enough, but he was also a great man, Mocci, a great, great man. After all, he was sergeant for them. I think he serves Queen Dovasary to this day. Anyway, we fought on for hours, through the blood, the sweat, and the fatigue. It seemed like we were losing as much ground as we were gaining. Then," his face slipped off into the past, his eyes showing distant and detached, "Something happened that made our country what it is now. Were it not for that moment, the battle would've failed, and all would've been lost."

Little Mocci stared gravely at his grandfather, spellbound by his tale, his eyes fixated on the old face. He could see the battle in his mind, raka and luarin fighting in a bloody melee, blows and weapons flying in the streets, men and women, mages and warriors, all fighting for their freedom.

"We heard a cry, and a shadow fell over the battle. Seemed like the quiet went for leagues around. I looked up, an' there she was. Her Highness, Queen Dovasary, mounted on a kudarung. She called, and I felt something…" He shook his head. "It was like she was calling to the land itself. At that moment, ev'ry soldier in our forces rallied. She had put her life in danger, her being the queen, wanted by all the nobles in the city, an' plenty that weren't."

He looked down at the boy by his feet, smiling. "Ah, Mocci. At that moment, had I known I'd die a slow and painful death for it, I'd still have fought for her. That was what her presence alone meant to our cause." Mocci grinned. This was his favorite part.

"After that, there was no question. The luarin were beat, they just didn't know it yet. We fought on, and it still took us until far past dusk to finish it, but the deed that finished it for us was the arrival of our fearless queen." He smiled again. "In the following few months, we had the castle rebuilt, and re-established our name among our allies. It didn't hurt that our royal spymaster was Tortallan nobility."

Mocci looked puzzled. "What do you mean, Grandfather?" The old man laughed.

"That's a story for another day, Mocci. For now, I think I smell rice cooking. Come on, your mother won't like it if we're late." With that, he got up and led his grandson in. "It smells delicious, Lesotho. Yes, he finished all his chores…" His voice faded off as the family settled down to dinner.

_He gave his blessing to the family, and hearing his name called took wing once more, bound for the castle many leagues away. He was glad he had listened, though. That old man was a born storyteller. Besides, it always cheered him to hear of the battle where he had finally gotten the best of his older brother and sister. As he neared his destination, he sighed in exasperation. He definitely recognized that voice. _

"_What do you want? I have better things to do than deal with such matters! Isn't that your job, anyway? What did you call me? I said…"_


End file.
